


Riding the Storm (She’s my Sin)

by OnlyOneWoman



Series: A Simple Man [17]
Category: Black Sails
Genre: Anne Bonny in fucking charge, Consensual Kink, Explicit Sexual Content, Exploring, F/F, First Time, Fucking pirates I swear..., Gay Sex, Lesbian Sex, M/M, Mary Read exploring Nassau and girls, My first lesbian smut, Not Canon Compliant, POV Alternating, Pirates are bad with feelings, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Self-Indulgent, Shameless Smut, Sorry Not Sorry, Spanking, Twisted and Fluffy Feelings, Unspoken Love, a lot of it, at all, bear with me, but good at sex, seriously, various relationships - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-30
Updated: 2019-11-30
Packaged: 2021-02-26 05:48:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,871
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21618640
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OnlyOneWoman/pseuds/OnlyOneWoman
Summary: Since there aren't enough Rackham/Vane or Bonny/Read smut in the world, I decided to shift focus from Lowbones and Silverdoon for this part of the series and just bring on some self-indulgent smut with feelings.This is basically just porn and Rackham needing someone to listen. It's also my first ever lesbian smut piece so I hope it's not too weird. Forget all about canon and correct timelines too, because my page is where canon goes to die.And good LORD, I forgot: as always, this is yours, E_A_Phoenix <3
Relationships: "Calico" Jack Rackham/Charles Vane, Anne Bonny/"Calico" Jack Rackham (mentioned), Anne Bonny/Mary Read, Anne Bonny/Max (implied)
Series: A Simple Man [17]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1530410
Comments: 8
Kudos: 34





	Riding the Storm (She’s my Sin)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Rising_Phoenix](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rising_Phoenix/gifts).



**Mary Read**  
“Wont he mind?”  
“Who? Jack?”  
“Yes.”  
“I aint his wife, girl.”  
“Don’t call me that.”  
  
The woman is standing close, she smells like a man, like battle and drinks, hardened leather and something else that Mary can’t name. Something feral, untamed. This is a woman who’ll only be kept in chains if she chooses to and she’d never be stupid enough to take that risk. She’s young, yes, but no girl and Mary doesn’t have to ask herself if the rumors of her ruthlessness are true, because Anne Bonny wouldn’t be standing here if they weren’t.  
  
Anne tilts her head, smiling like it’s all a joke but her eyes aren’t spiteful.  
  
“No? You clearly aint a boy and I’d hardly call you a _lady_ …”  
“Mark is fine. Or Mary.”  
  
The hand cradling her chin is bony, a claw of iron disguised in the hand of a girl. It’s a hand made for breaking necks and grasping daggers, not for embroidery or the gentle rocking of a baby. Her breasts are small and has never carried milk. She’s had more than one man, of that Mary is pretty certain, but the flat belly has never been swollen from a new life. Questions Mary doesn’t need to ask to know the answer to.  
  
“No, Mary… He wont mind. Neither will she.”  
“She?”  
  
There’s a smile, almost soft, and Anne nods at the closed door, taking another step into Mary’s space.  
  
“Max, sweet thing. The woman who runs this place.”  
  
Oh, right. The dark one with curly hair and exquisite dresses. Mary swallows.  
  
“You and her are…?”  
“We enjoy each other’s company, yes.”  
  
It’s more than that, Mary isn’t stupid and this woman might be hard to reach, but she’s not a good liar. A pang of what could be jealousy hits her, not that it’s reasonable at any scale, but it’s been a long time since Mary belonged to someone and while doesn’t miss her husband, at least she was someone to him, if only his wife.  
  
Her disappointment must be showing because the redhaired woman comes even closer, eyes no longer as piercing, but soft, like she pitied her. Mary doesn’t need pity, doesn’t want it. She forces herself to look back, to not waver and she swallows.  
  
“You gonna fuck me or not?”  
  
Anne’s eyebrows are rising and she tilts her head again, her small but coarse hand cupping Mary’s chin now sliding down to where the binder is flattening out the breasts.  
  
“That what you need, _Mary_? A good fuck?”  
  
When Mary doesn’t answer, only blushes, Anne snickers and tugs lightly at Mary’s jacket.  
  
“I don’t fuck women with their clothes still on. I need to see what I’m dealing with…”  
  
**Jack Rackham**  
“It’s not about the fucking, Chaz, and she knows that. _You_ know that.”  
“Of course…”  
“But you know what used to be one of the better things about the sea?”  
“What?”  
“The sound of _no fucking women_. Or of women fucking each other!”  
“Uh-huh…”  
“And now, suddenly, these damn creatures are everywhere!”  
“Not in here, but you _are_ whining like a girl.”  
“You’re a brute, Chaz, and yes, I know: _fuck you, Jack_. See, I spared you the trouble of forming a sentence.”  
  
His friend, Captain and occasional lover is a goddamn useless one for talking after a fuck. Something he has in common with Anne and Jack can’t help but feeling abandoned, not primarly by Anne but by… well, life.  
  
Charles lays conked out in the tent, eyes half-closed and neither of them is the woman they want, but the sex is damn good for the lack of pussy and doesn’t need a label. No one knows about them, that’s the important thing and when Charles looks at him, Jack knows he’s not searching for someone else. There’s no love between them in that sense, just a deep friendship, a belonging of a kind one usually doesn’t find easily.  
  
“She needs it, you need this, you’re both free to have it. What’s the fucking problem?”  
“The problem, Chaz, is that unlike women, you don’t try and get yourself into my head.”  
“I did have my…”  
“Yes, yes, and you know that’s _not_ what I meant! Jesus, you’re such a savage.”  
  
Charles raises his eyebrows, almost smiling in that way that means _fuck, you’re such an idiot, Jack, but for some reason I like you._ He reaches for Jack and pulls him down onto his arm in a gesture probably only one more person has been the subject to. They’re both drunk, not enough to forget about this in the morning, but well enough to pretend they will.  
  
Jack knows it’s frustrating for both Anne and Charles with a lover who can’t stop talking, but they have no fucking idea how it is to deal with not one, but two, aloof, grumpy humans who communicate better with knives and growls than actual words. But they like him. Hell, to the point they’re capable of it, they even love him and he loves them.  
  
_Fuck you, Jack._  
  
One day Jack plans on answer both Anne and Charles with an _I love you too._ A sweet revenge saved for the right moment, not necessarily served cold, but still. It’s a thought that makes Jack feels very _pleased_ with himself.  
  
**Anne Bonny**  
The girl with the short, brown hair and men’s clothing is shy yet determined. Anne leans back in the chair, sending a thought of gratitude towards Max who, being who she is, of course knew the deal at once, not saying a word but simply dropping the key in Anne’s hand on her way passing. They both share beds with others: Anne with Jack, of course, and Max with Idelle. And Jack, on occasion, with Charles. Max is a practical woman who knows the importance of discretion better than most.  
  
Mary is hesistant in her moves, as if unsure whether or not Anne will find her desireble. She looses the hat, the jacket and then the broad leather belt onto the floor. Her shirt comes next and Anne isn’t surprised to see the tight bandage around the chest. Mary looks up.  
  
“I.. I can keep it on if you…”  
“Looks uncomfortable.”  
  
The little grimaze and nervous laughter confirms that and Anne nods at her.  
  
“Take it off.”  
  
It comes off in layers and two flattened breasts are showing, slightly bruised and Mary brings her hands up to cover them. Anne frowns.  
  
“Don’t do that. Let me see.”  
  
It’s with heated cheeks that Mary lets her hands down and there’s no ugliness there at all. Why should there be? Anne looks at her breeches.  
  
“Show me that you’re not a man.”  
  
Now Mary actually laughs and there’s a tease in her eyes.  
  
“Never heard that one before…”  
  
She looses her second belt and lets the breeches fall to the floor, revealing a strange construction of a belt with what appears to be an embellishment shaped as a member. Mary grins at her.  
  
“There’s two holes, so I can take a piss like the others.”  
“The hell did you…?”  
“Bought it from a whore in Tortuga. They’re a bit more… equipped there, I guess. Gotta be careful not to spill though.”  
“Jesus… “  
  
Anne can’t help but smile too, because the thing looks both ridiculous and surprisingly real.  
  
“Get that damn thing off, will you? If I wanted cock, I have plenty of real ones to choose from.”  
“Yes, ma’m.”  
  
The title is mocking, but also challenging and the girl takes the belt off, now fully naked in front of Anne. Her pussy is covered in thick, dark hair, untaimed and soft and Anne feels the little tugs between her own legs from the sight and, which feels slightly embarressing, the title. She eyeballs her, enjoys the way the girl is both wanton and insecure.  
  
“Ever been with a woman before, girl?”  
“No, ma’m. You’re my first.”  
  
She bits her lower lip and it’s fucking adorable and amusing, ridiculous too because it just doesn’t fit with her muscled frame, her short hair and the hard, broad hands. Anne thinks of how those rough fingers would feel inside her, how they would differ from the delicate softness of Max and she feels wetness seeping onto her own breeches.  
  
There are some things to be clear about first, though, and she looks the girl straight in the eye.  
  
“Are you still sore?”  
“No, ma’m.”  
“Because I aint doing shit if you’re not up to it.”  
“I’m up to it, ma’m. See for yourself.”  
  
The girls steps closer and then, to Anne’s utter surprise, she turns around and bends down, legs wide and showing all of her, the curly hairs, the swollen clit and the puckered skin leading to her ass. There’s no soreness to the eye, just pink softness, glistening wet and Anne goes all red from this display of shamelessness.  
  
It’s nothing like her first encounterment with a woman and a flare of anger hits her, for how this disguised little girl dares to be so brazen about her needs. Anne swallows at the view of lewdness before her and she decides that maybe it’s time for this little girl to learn a lesson.  
  
“You want me to fuck you, right?”  
“Yes, ma’m.”  
“Your mother never told you it’s sinful to seduce other men’s women?”  
“Y-yes, ma’m. She did.”  
“And did you listen?”  
“No, ma’m. I’ve never been a… particularly good listener.”  
  
Jesus Christ, the girl is _soaked_ and Anne briefly thinks of keeping her just like this for hours, to just see her dripping, hear her panting, listening to that wanton voice that sounds neither like a man’s nor a woman’s.  
  
Instead, she widens her own legs a bit more, sits up straight in the chair and pats her lap.  
  
“Maybe I should teach you a lesson, then…”  
  
**Charles Vane**  
He loves him, of course he does. Loving someone has never been hard to admit, it’s not something Charles has ever considered hiding or lying about. Which, how ever, doesn’t men he has a need to say it aloud either. Love is a simple matter. Not as in easily tossed aside, but in the matter of knowing when it’s there and when it’s not. And they’ve loved each other for a long time, with or without the fucking.  
  
“You know how Max turned her around, Chaz. Who knows what this little sea urchin has in mind…”  
  
Charles rolls his eyes and lits another pipe.  
  
“They’re just fucking, Jack. You have a problem with not being invited, or what?”  
  
Jack snorts.  
  
“I don’t lack women in my bed, Chaz. What I do lack are women who don’t try use _my_ woman _._ ”  
“Anne’s not yours. She’s no one’s, you know that.”  
“Just like you, yes, I’m aware.”  
  
Charles blows out a cloud of smoke, resting his eyes on the worried man.  
  
“You’re jealous.”  
“Me? Jealous?”  
“Yes.”  
  
He reaches his hand out again, this time to just touch his lover’s chest, to trace the restless heart underneath pale skin.  
  
“She loves you, but you can’t tame her, Jack. She’ll go wherever she wants to.”  
“Yes, thank you, I’m aware.”  
“But at the end of the day…”  
  
Charles’ lets his fingertips travel over Jack’s collarbones where he sucked a prominent bruise a little while ago.  
  
“…at the end of the day, she’ll always seek out you. And you’re an idiot if you think fucking compares to that.”  
  
**Mary Read**  
What would mother say if she knew? Mary squirms inside as she does her utmost to lie still in the shameful position over the deadly woman’s lap. She’s painfully aware of the wetness between her legs, how the need is throbbing and sort of pushing out more of it. She feels Anne’s hand stroking her ass, the muscled buttocks and Mary gasps as a finger is sliding between them, dragging along her juices all the way back to her puckered hole.  
  
“P-please, ma’m, not…”  
“I wont, girl.”  
  
There’s no intrusion, just a slick touch and then, suddenly, Anne’s small hand lands on Mary’s ass with a surprisingly amount of force.  
  
“Oh!”  
  
Anne chuckles at Mary’s little whine and good Lord, what kind of woman has she become! The loyal daughter of a solider, then a dutiful soldier’s wife, saying her prayers and performing her chores as a good wife is gone and if the men’s clothing and the years at sea hadn’t made that clear, this certainly does.  
  
It doesn’t hurt, the slaps are playful and Anne… Anne is still feral but in a different manner. She keeps slapping for a while as Mary squirms and moans over her lap. Anne rubs her buttocks just when Mary starts feeling like they might turn a little red and the finger returns, not hard as the first, failed time, but soft and slow.  
  
“So wet…”  
  
The murmur is like a low growl and Jesus, Mary just wants to be fucked, needs those fingers inside her and she lets out a moan she’d be ashamed of had it been with a man.  
  
“Please, ma’m, Miss Bonny… Fuck me…”  
  
Another slap, a tad bit sharper, lands on her buttocks and sends little shivers of lust through her body and Mary is grateful she didn’t know this could be a thing of want instead of a punishment. She’s not sure if her face are more red than her ass, but they’re competing and when the hand comes down again, not in a slap, but a firm stroke up over her spine, like petting a wild cat to rest in her lap.  
  
“I don’t know, girl… You really ought to know better than sneaking up on pirates… Do you have any idea what you’re getting yourself into…?”  
  
Mary cries out this time, it’s a hard strike and the humiliation is pairing up with a need she’s not felt with any man or woman before. She wants… just _wants_ and her entire body is bursting from it. From the sin that is this dangerous woman and the ungodly pleasure she offers. Mary pants as the strikes keep coming, she’ll have a hard time sitting tomorrow but has no thought about moving and she’s pretty sure she’s smearing the woman’s leg with by now.  
  
She takes a deep breath, allowing herself to let out an unrestrained whine when the delicious sting makes her flesh quiver again.  
  
“ _Please_ , ma’m… I’m gonna…”  
  
Is that even possible? To hit that spot of absolute pleasure from this? Maybe with this hand, with this woman, but Mary wants more and thank God, the strikes stop and for a moment, she just lays there, catching her breath.  
  
The hand is now stroking her hair and the sweet burn on her ass keeps her blood running south. She’s so open and wet, swollen in the right way and Mary gives a desperate whimper when those hard fingers collect her wetness and start stroking her all the way from her most sensitive part to her other hole.  
  
Mary feels long hair falling over her back and thighs, breaths fluttering across her sensitive skin. Every part of her is on high alert and no, she had no idea what she was getting herself into, she’s never felt a craving like this and she’s no longer able to tease or even talk.  
  
“Get on the bed, girl. On your stomach, legs out.”  
  
Fuck, this woman knows how to give an order! Mary has to bite her cheeks to not make some kind of embarressing noise as she scrambles to obey, spreading as widely as she can, face buried into the mattress.  
  
“Lift your hips.”  
  
A pillow, propping her red ass up, how completely shameless, how barbaric and lewd and _sinful_! Mary closes her eyes, waiting for the rough fingers, but they don’t come. No scissoring movement into her flesh, instead there’s more of that hair, a hot breath ghosting over her skin and then Mary looses all sense of anything outside the shock from the tongue pressing deep down, like a soft, determined blade over her swollen button.  
  
It’s so good, so unexpectedly shifting between sweet and tickling and almost rough and Mary can’t help but rutting against whatever she can reach, her pussy pulling tight from the feeling of now smirking lips and the softest brushing from teeth. It’s too intense to merely bury in the pillow and Mary turns her head, looking at the woman who knew instantly Mary was no man.  
  
“I… I want to… Please, I wanna see your face…”  
  
Anne Bonny just looks at her and then she steps back, gesturing for Mary to rearrange. And as Mary turns around and leans back onto her elbows, legs widened like a whore, Anne gives a smile that suggests she likes what she sees.  
  
Then, finally, she starts undressing.  
  
**Jack Rackham  
**There have been those daring to joke about it and none of them make jokes anymore. Not about how Jack looked like he’d take his Captain up the ass and not about anything else in that subject either. Jack grunts as he lowers down, feeling Charles filling him up completely, stretching his skin while never breaking eye contact. His lover has a very nice cock, yes, but its not girth or length that makes Jack crave this, but the way Charles just _looks_ at him while they fuck.  
  
A blue gaze, stripped down to raw pupil and nothing more. No distance, no images replacing Jack’s face. No lies, no make-belief. Eleanor, Anne… all women and most definitely all men are long gone in moments like these. Right now, Charles isn’t his Captain and Jack sure as hell isn’t his quartermaster or beneath him in any way.  
  
They’ve done this for so long, they know the other one’s needs as well as their own now. Charles says nothing as he lets Jack relax and get used to the burn. He’s never impatient, doesn’t rush or make unnecessary comments. Jack feels hands grabbing his hips, not to control or direct, just to hold on and he can hear the small grunt as his lover gets a little space as well, once Jack’s hole is getting loose enough to move.  
  
They don’t talk, it’s one of few occasions where Jack doesn’t feel the need to fill the silence with words to feel in control. He rides his Captain, his best friend and his lover with ease and a confidence he rarely feels outside the confines of their fucking. It’s a storm he can, not control, but ride like an untamed horse who’s not been captured but approached freely. And Jack might be the one with cock up his ass – and goddamn good one, he might add – but he’s setting the pace and the depth and the way he wants this trip to lead.  
  
He knows how to squeeze to make Charles’ breath speed up, how to twist and turn to tear the silence apart with a gutteral moan or strained gasp. It’s not a woman who makes Charles Vane grasp for support with a bruising grip around Jack’s hips. It’s not a woman who makes his abdomen move like a wave, not a girl he once loved who coxes these sounds out the feared Captain who bows for nothing and no one. And it’s not a woman’s name that’s coming from those lips when Jack moves faster up, squeezes tighter and lowers slow, oh so slow, just to hear the broken syllables falling like bitterly sweet drops of rum.  
  
“Jack… _Oh, fuck, Jack…_ ”  
  
No _fuck you_ , because it’s Jack who’s doing the fucking and he loves it almost as much as Charles does. Broad arms are pulling Jack closer down and they kiss, a thing that’s mostly a little too intimate or whatever the problem seems to be, but now it’s easy as breathing and Charles’s broken grunts say all the things Jack’s wittiness can’t, their both alike and much different bodies in perfect tandem as they give and take what they both want without hesitation, shame or labels.  
  
**Anne** **Bonny  
**She’s not a beautiful woman, nor has she ever aspired to be one. Jack finds her desireble enough, as she finds him and there’s a freedom in not being depending on neither ribbons and perfume, nor bulging muscles to be desireble and in a way even pretty to someone. Jack isn’t always the most attentive or enthusiastic lover, but neither is Anne and while she’s never seen Jack with Charles’ cock up his ass, she’s pretty sure he looks something like this cheeky girl does right now. Like a cat gotten the cream and not knowing how to eat it.  
  
The red buttocks look good on her and it’s almost a shame Anne can’t get a better view of them right now. She’s put the girl’s leg over her own thighs as she fucks her with three fingers, using her thumb to rub the sweet spot with every thrust. **  
  
**Max is loud in bed when she wants to, but these deep moans are something else and leaves Anne dumbstruck. She needs something herself soon too, but the girl isn’t capable of that right now, she’s just rutting against Anne’s hand like it’s her final wish and Jesus Christ, aint this a sight to be seen and the only one who gets to, is Anne.  
  
“Oh… Oh, ma’m… Oh, _bloody hell…_ **”  
  
**The girl shouts unabashed and Anne can but stare in amazement as her fingers are more or less trapped in a sucking, wet squeeze as the little creature beneath her comes. The clench loosens after a moment and Anne lowers to plant kisses, not on that beautifully wet opening, but the stomach, the sweat shining hip bones and the flattened breasts.  
  
She puts the girl to the side and simply guides her almost manlike hand onto her own pussy, fully prepared to show how she wants it, but then the seemingly exhausted girl immediately starts flickering her broad fingers and while it’s clear this girl hasn’t done this before, she a very quick learner and Anne gasps as the sailor’s hand fucks her hard and fast, just like she needs the most. **  
**  
**Charles Vane**  
He’s always liked to watch a lover take what she – or he – wants and not letting go. To see them take it to the limit, squeeze the last drop of it out of themselves and him without hesitation or shame. He never allows himself to come before Jack does and it’s with his seed spilled over his chest, that Charles lets go of control and rams himself home until all he knows is primal pleasure as he shoots up that clenching heat.  
  
Usually, they just catch their breaths for a short moment before Jack rolls off him but tonight, Charles stops the movement and locks the Captain down onto his chest. He’s still not softened completely, still able to remain inside Jack for a moment. He doesn’t know why he wants that and has no plans on figuring out. Jack, for once, isn’t commenting, just relaxing in the position and his hand is idly stroking Charles’ arm.  
  
And when his friend, lover and ally turns his face to look at him, Charles finally lets himself smile.


End file.
